Where the Dead Talk (17 page)

Eyes that shone cold quicksilver.

Thomas almost dropped the sack. He couldn’t move for several heartbeats, eyes locked on the face of the figure. He took a step back, then another, the back of his shoe knocking the dying embers out of their delicate pile. Weeds clung to the hair of the figure, and something on the face. With a yell that carried over the entire lake – but was lost to his own ears – Thomas turned and bolted for the trees. He crashed into them, pushing aside low branches. He almost stumbled over a few protruding roots, but kept his feet beneath him. It didn’t matter what got in his way, he pushed through it or over it, not slowing down. He had never run so fast, ever. He didn’t stop to catch his breath, or to look behind him. He didn’t even realize that he was shouting as he ran, shouting it over and over again.

"Uncle Joseph, Uncle Joseph, Uncle Joseph …"

The dark woods held his secret as he passed.

Like An Officer In The King’s Own

The militiamen – dirty and angry-looking – gave her dark looks, but that was all-in-all preferable to being out in the darkness. She was about to ask if some of them could provide an escort to her home when an Mr. Eldridge Carrier - whom her father had never cared for - looking pained and holding his wrist – started pointing at her.

"Who’s lying now?" he screeched. "Look who it is. Her loyalist father cain’t be far behind – and you think they’s just out to stop by for an ale?"

A murmur passed among the men. The Major – tied to a chair – made an exasperated sound.

"Ask her what she saw," he said, "and do it now, before you go and get yourselves all worked up again."

"She might be in on your crazy story," one of the men said.

"And her father’s probably bringing them rest of them here right now," the old man yelled.

"Ask her," the Major said, "and please tell me you have a gag for this one."

The old man lunged at him, but the tavernkeep caught him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him back, struggling. He whispered something to the man, and the fight stopped, and the man sat like a scolded child on the floor, cradling his wrist. All eyes turned back to Carolyn. She told her story: the road, the woods, the green. All of it but Jonathon – she couldn’t bring herself to give the words to it. When she was finished, MacGuire looked around the room.

"It ain’t possible," he said.

"Then go look," Carolyn said.

MacGuire shook his head.

"What about them regiments the Major there was talking on?"

"There are no regiments, and no companies," Pomeroy said. "The only member of the King’s army left here in West Bradhill is me. Hardly enough for a trap of any kind."

"I still don’t like this," MacGuire said.

The air outside was chill, colder than earlier. A breeze gusted from the north-west and thin clouds hurried past the moon. The men gathered outside the door. Morrill and his boys, MacGuire, and Jude. Carolyn stood in the doorway.

"Don’t see too much," MacGuire said.

"You won’t need to go far," Carolyn said.

"I think it’s a trick," Cooper said. "They’re trying to get us out of here, trying to split us up."

"Damn it, there’s no trick. It’s just as I told you," Jude said

"Then why don’t you come with us?" MacGuire said. "We need to round up our horses, and you can help us. Besides – if there are walking co’pses around, we could use an extra man with us, someone with another gun. If it means so much for us to believe you, then maybe now you’ll join us."

"Lock the door behind us, Miss Bucknell," he said, with a glance behind her to the figure of Elizabeth, standing near the hearth, "and untie the Major. There’s another musket just inside the kitchen door – the back door’s locked, too. Don’t open up the door for anyone but us – I don’t expect it will take long."

After they’d gone a few paces beyond the circle of lantern light, it was difficult to see them. She watched the tavernkeep and the other men walk across the street in the direction of the green, disappearing into the darkness. She turned and closed the door.

"Couldn’t just take my word for it, could they," the Major said. "Had to see for their bloody selves – well, that might be the last we see of them."

"I see they forgot to gag you," Carolyn said.

"Yes, well. Ha ha. That’s terrifically funny – and if I didn’t have this rope digging into my chest and the other one turning my foot numb, I’d be just stinging with enjoyment at your delicious wit, I’m sure. Now untie me, if you would."

"And I’m your servant now, Major?"

"Fine," he said, "would you please be so kind as to untie me."

Carolyn went around behind his chair and began pulling at the ropes.

"Thank you for what you did, Major," Elizabeth said. Carolyn recognized her as the Reverend’s wife, though she’d never spoken to her, nor had more than a glimpse of her at services.

"It was nothing."

"No, it wasn’t," she said. "Keeping everybody looking at you while I was able to get to the gun. Things might have gotten worse if not for that."

The ropes shook loose and the Major slid forward on the chair and then stood up. He took a few slow steps, going lightly on his left leg.

"I’ve a feeling things could still very well get worse," he said, "so let's not get too self-congratulatory."

Carrier watched them, his eyes wrinkled and glaring.

"I should do something about his wrist," Elizabeth said.

"We should break the other one," the Major said.

He walked to the window and looked out.

"Going out there was a bad idea. Where are they?" he said.

"You won’t see them. They’re too far off."

"Fools."

"Would you believe that story?" Carolyn said.

He turned.

"Well, why not. If nothing else, it's a reason to stop getting all worked up about uprisings and confrontations and the King versus the Colonies, Adams, Hancock, and the lot," he said. He gestured towards the night beyond the window.

"What else are a few walking corpses good for, if not that."

Carolyn shook her head.

"You can’t take anything seriously, can you?" she said.

"Actually, I’m taking this quite a bit more seriously than anyone else around the –"

"Oh, please."

"No, really," he said, "I’m the one that keeps urging everyone else to pack it up and leave. Why? It’s not that this charming little village is full of people who I find just a cut below my standing, Miss Bucknell."

Carolyn sniffed.

"No, it’s that this charming little village if full of walking corpses spitting up black blood. I’m not the one who insists on continuing to run around, looking for this person, looking for that, hiding from local militia. I’m the one who wants to leave here while I’m still alive. It all seems perfectly –"

"Well, yes – if you’re not thinking about anyone besides yourself," she said.

"Hardly the point –"

"But the rest of us aren’t so selfish and callous and –"

"Excuse me, but I could well have been twenty miles from here by now, except for being selfish and callous enough to help the boy – and you, I thought at the time – look for your precious Jonathon."

She turned and walked away without another word to him.

"There’s a lovely answer," the Major called after her, "just walk away."

Carolyn spun around.

"Then why don’t you go ahead and do the same?" she said. "Just walk away, or run away, or slink off. Whichever it is that you're planning on. All this talk of being the only reasonable soul left standing, and yet you’re still here."

"Yes, well there was that little matter of being taken at gun point by the ever-vigilant West Bradhill militia, and then tied up to a chair."

He put his index finger to his chin.

"Hmmm. Now why didn’t I just leave?"

He's absolutely intolerable, Carolyn thought.

"The door latches from the inside," she said, pointing to the front door of the tavern, "Nothing’s holding you back now."

"Except for the darkness full of walking dead. Thanks, but at this point I’ll wait until daylight."

Jonathon could be vexing, but the Major was on a whole new level when it came to irritating her. She turned and walked across the room. There was a crash and a thud from the floor above.

"Major –" the Reverend’s wife said.

"Is there anyone else in the tavern?" the Major said from over by the door. She shook her head.

"Blast it," the Major said. He looked around and went to the corner table. "Musket, quickly."

The woman stood up. She reached over and handed him the one in the corner.

"You have another?" he said.

"Just the pistol."

The tavern was silent, everyone listening. At the table, the Major quickly poured in the powder, tamped it down, and pushed down a ball. A series of bumps came from the second floor.

"I’ll go with you," Carolyn said.

The Major shook his head.

"Hardly," he said, "as much as I’d prefer company, that’s a bad idea. You wait here. If you shoot the pistol and miss, perhaps one of the fire-pokers might –"

"I'm not one of your men," she cut in.

"Fine," he said. He extended the musket out to her, resting the stock on the floor.

"Please," he said, "take charge, then. Here’s the musket. The sound came from upstairs. Have a go."

She took the musket from him. Insufferable. Without a word, she breezed past him and went to the stairs. Her father had taught her to shoot a pistol – how different could a musket be, other than getting it up to one’s shoulder? At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. Trying not to let the others see, she hefted the musket up a little. It was heavier than it looked.

"Miss, don’t do that," Elizabeth said. "Let the Major go up there."

Carolyn looked over at the dim common room.

"I’ll be fine. I know how to shoot."

Starting up the stairs, Carolyn lifted the gun. It was difficult to keep the end lifted high enough. The stairs turned the corner into darkness – since they’d all been downstairs, there were no lanterns or candles lit on the second floor. She paused at the turn. The top of the stairs was a black wall, the faint light from the common room below only hinting at the banister and the top steps. Footsteps came up behind her, and her shadow suddenly leapt up the wall next to her. The Major had a fire-poker in his right hand, a lantern in his left.

"I’m fine," Carolyn said.

"I’m not."

"Go back downstairs."

"Don’t be stupid," he said.

He was looking up to the top of the stairs. The light from the lantern reached the walls, the lower part still in blackness.

"Give me the gun," he said.

"No, Major. I can shoot perfectly well."

"Good god, you’re as stubborn as the boy."

"If by that you mean that I’m willing to face a problem head on –"

"More the way that logic rolls off of you like water off the back of a goose once you’ve made your mind up," he said.

He started up to the top of the steps.

"Please," he said, holding the lantern out in front of him, "be ready to use it, then."

She clenched her teeth. She lifted the gun to her shoulder again and started up after him. At the top, the Major paused. The shadows from the framing of the lantern moved back and forth across the walls. A breeze was rushing about in the long hallway, playing with the flame.

"That window," he said, pointing straight to the end of the hallway with the poker, "it’s broken in."

Curtains waved, cool night air tossing them about. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw a shadow move outside the window.

"Did you –" she began.

"Shhhh."

He motioned for her to be quiet.

"Listen," he said in a whisper.

Carolyn leaned forward, taking another step up. At first, she didn’t hear anything – then she heard a sound. It was a soft shuffling, and an undecipherable whispering.

"Back there," the Major said.

He again pointed with the fire-poker, indicating the last of the rooms on the left, next to the broken window. The doorway was solid darkness. The shuffling sound stopped. Neither of them moved. The breeze carried a foul smell on it, strong enough for Carolyn to turn her face.

"That’s the smell of them," the Major said.

He took a step backwards. She was on the step just below the top, and he leaned back to her.

"We should run," he said, keeping his voice low, "get everyone out of here, meet up with the others."

His eyes held fear – and an earnestness that she hadn’t thought him capable of. The lantern’s flame hissed. Maybe he was right.

"Carolyn," he said.

It was perhaps the first sensible thing he’d suggested yet, but it didn’t seem to matter. All she could think about was Jonathon. What if he’d followed her here? What if that was him in the darkened room even now – and what if there was something that could be done to help him? If they could subdue him, keep him safe. Then, get her father and see what he could do to stop the terrible condition from worsening, see if she could help get back the fiery young man she’d half fallen in love with.

"No," she said, "there are two of us. We’re armed. We should look."

She stepped up to the top, keeping the musket trained on the door at the end of the hall.

"Good Christ," the Major said, barely a whisper. He followed her nonetheless. They walked down the hallway, silent but for the lantern and the wind coming in through the broken window. Each step brought a deepening feeling of unquiet, the same as she’d felt at the carriage house. Whatever was on the other side of the wall knew they were there – the stillness of the air, the low whisper. The sense of a challenge, of a will urging them on, into the room. To take a step in and surrender.

"He knows we’re here," Carolyn said, her voice at normal volume, shattering the quiet. The Major jumped.

"No sense being quiet about it," she said.

"Have you lost your mind?" he said.

She took a step to her right, keeping the gun pointed at the doorway.

"Not at all – there’s just no point in waiting."